Rawlson's Daughter
by dinacarter
Summary: The daughter of Ben Rawlson, a rancher and friend of Matt's, claims that the Marshal is the father of her child. Her false accusations have serious consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**Rawlson's Daughter**

_x_

_Disclaimer: This fanfic was written for entertainment purposes only, and is not intended to violate or infringe on the copyrights as owned by VIACOM / PARAMOUNT, nor to realize any profits._

_Summary: The daughter of Ben Rawlson, a rancher and friend of Matt's, claims that the Marshal is the father of her child. Her accusations have serious consequences._

_Rating: pg-13_

_x_

**Chapter One**

"Can I get you some more, Marshal?" tempted Kate Rawlson smiling as she held the skillet out to Matt Dillon, the US Marshal from Dodge City.

"Thank you, ma'am," the lawman replied smiling as he held up his plate for a second helping of the delicious stew and then added appreciatively, "Kate...you sure are a mighty fine cook."

One thing was for sure--this was indeed better than sitting around a campfire somewhere out on the prairie between Hays City and Dodge, chewing on a piece of leathery jerky.

Ben Rawlson's wife blushed at his words and scooped another ladle onto his plate for good measure before returning the cast-iron skillet to the stove.

Matt turned to the rancher sitting across from him. He had traveled to Hays two days ago along with a prisoner and he had run into Ben Rawlson at the trial. Matt had known the rancher for some years now but hadn't seen him in a while so he had gladly accepted Rawlson's offer to spend the night at his ranch before returning to Dodge in the morning.

"I'm much obliged to you for puttin' me up, Ben," he said.

"Oh, nonsense, Matt," Ben waved him off, "you know, you're welcome here anytime." He took a sip from his coffee. "Besides," he then added and a frown began to darken his weathered features, "you done us a great service by bringin' that Walker-kid in."

"Just doin' my job, Ben," Matt answered as he washed down the last of the stew with a big gulp from his coffee. He put the cup down and glanced over at his friend.

"You know...it sure didn't take that jury long to convict him," he then added thoughtfully as he recalled how unusually short the trial for Seth Walker had been.

The rancher made a scoffing sound.

"Can you blame 'em?" he wondered tensely, shaking his head. "That kid shot old Abe Collins in cold blood when he caught that li'l weasel stealin' his horses." His knuckles were turning white as he tightened his grip on the coffee mug. "If you ask me,hanging's just too good for that no-good bum."

A sudden choking sob from the other end of the table brought their conversation to an abrupt end and all eyes now turned curiously on Beth Rawlson, the couple's eighteen year-old daughter and only child.

Fully aware of the unwanted attention she had drawn, the young woman quickly lowered her gaze to her plate and put her fork down. "Excuse me, please," she murmured quietly as she hastily pushed her chair back and rose to her feet.

Before the surprised parents could say anything, she had already rushed past them from the room. Neither one of them had seen the tears that were streaking down her pale face--but the Marshal had.

_x_

Ten months later.

"Ya know, Mister Dillon," Chester Goode said contentedly as he cracked another sunflower seed open with his front teeth, "what more could a fella want...a belly full of food, a bed to sleep in and enough money in his pocket for a beer ev'ry now an' then." He carelessly flicked the shell into the street where it joined the others as he let his gaze sweep over the crowded street.

It was Friday afternoon and the mid-June sun shone warmly but not yet hot onto the streets of Dodge. The past few days had been unusually quiet but Matt already had a feeling that the peace probably wouldn't last too much longer, so he did, what he thought would make the most sense at the moment--rest up and take it easy until his services were needed.

After enjoying a filling lunch at Delmonico's with Chester, Matt had made his way back to the office where neither prisoner nor paperwork was waiting for him. Now he was comfortably stretched out on a chair on the small front porch of the jail while his assistant sat alongside him, busy littering the street with sunflower seed shells.

"Yeah," came the mumbled response from underneath the Marshal's Stetson, "I'll remind you next time you're broke." He shifted a little, now interlacing his hands behind his head and then yawned loudly.

At his words, Chester turned.

"Well, now...what do you mean by that?" he wondered, then paused and began to think before adding carefully, "I don't owe you anythin', do I?"

Matt pushed his hat back and opened one eye, glancing over at his assistant from underneath the brim.

"As a matter of fact...you do. Seven dollars and fifty cents, if you wanna know." He gave the brim of his Stetson a tuck, pulling it back down to shade his face and brought his hand back behind his head.

"Seven dollars an' fifty cents?" sputtered Chester incredulously, "how, in the world, can that be?" He lowered his hand, holding the seeds, about to give the matter further thought when Doc Adams suddenly shuffled up onto the sidewalk.

The physician looked rather tired and disheveled, his string tie was dangling loosely around his unbuttoned shirtcollar, his shirtsleeves were rolled up and he was carrying his worn gray coat carelessly slung over his shoulder, all indicating that he probably had been out on a nightly call.

"Hello, Matt...Chester," he acknowledged the two with a nod and then dropped himself into the nearest chair with a contented grunt.

"Hello, Doc," mumbled the Marshal, pushing the brim of his hat up with his forefinger to get a better look at his friend. When he noticed the physician's slovenly appearance, he straightened up. "Well, you sure look like business is boomin'," he remarked with a smile.

"Oh, by golly...let me tell ya somethin'," the doctor replied with tired wave of his hand, "I just got back from the Stevens'." He paused and then, a proud smile now twitching the corners of his mouth, added, "delivered a fine new baby boy for them last night."

"Oh, my goodness," cooed Chester delighted, the seven dollars and fifty cents momentarily forgotten.

"You did, did you," said Matt smiling; he knew that the doctor considered delivering babies one of the more pleasurable aspects in his line of work. "So," he then added, "how many does that make for them?" He vaguely remembered the Stevens' having had one or two when he first came to Dodge five years ago and it seemed as if there had to be at least five now; they pretty much had a baby every year.

"Well, let me see," Doc said, rubbing his neck as he began to count. "This one's a boy...that makes four an' the two girls...six altogether," he concluded with a nod.

"Well, ain't that nice," Chester piped up again, still smiling broadly as he shoved another sunflower seed into his mouth.

"Yeah...I tell ya one thing though," Doc said and this time, a slight frown was creasing his forehead, "it'd be a lot nicer if someone'd paid me in hard cash once in a while." His eyes shifted to his little black medical kit sitting on the porch beside him and Matt, catching it, knew right away what he was getting at.

"Preserves?" he wondered, pointing at the bag; Mrs. Stevens was known for her preserves.

"Strawberry," confirmed Doc grumbling.

"Ya know, Doc," chuckled Chester, eyes twinkling with humor, "you oughtta look at it like this... leastways you ain't gonna starve to death--"

"Well, you don't exactly look as if you gonna have to worry about that either," the physician shot back irascibly, fixing his eyes on Chester's belly.

"Now what's that s'posed to mean?" the young man queried indignantly as he looked down at himself with confusion but Doc wasn't paying any more attention to him; he had turned his gaze to a buckboard wagon that was slowly rolling down Front Street.

The driver, a tall, broad-shouldered man, probably in his early fifties, struck an imposing figure as he sat proud and straight on the high seat, the reins guiding the team of horses, firmly in both hands. There was somebody else sitting beside him--it was a woman. She was shielded from view by the man's body but Doc could see a glimpse of wavy brown hair cascading down her back.

"By golly, Matt," exclaimed the physician as he nudged his friend with his elbow, "isn't' that--"

"Ben Rawlson--" the Marshal finished his sentence. He hadn't seem the rancher since last September when he had brought Seth Walker to Hays for his trial, and he couldn't believe that it had been ten months already. His face broke into a smile.

"Well, I'll be doggoned," he muttered as he began to clamber to his feet. Casually clasping his thumbs into the top of his belt, he watched the buckboard come to a stop in front of the Dodge House. The rancher clambered off the seat and proceeded to walk around the wagon.

"Be right back," Matt told his friends as he stepped off the porch and set out to cross the street, weaving his way around several wagons and horses.

Ben Rawlson was about to help the woman down when he took notice of the approaching lawman and froze. His whole body suddenly seemed to go rigid and his face darkened; with quick strides he rounded the buckboard.

The Marshal didn't notice it.

"Hello, Ben," he exclaimed smiling as he came to a stop a few feet from him, his hand extended in a greeting.

The punch came completely unexpected and caught Matt square on the mouth. He staggered backwards, instinctively pressing the back of his hand against his bleeding lip as he stared at his friend in total bewilderment.

"You bastard!" the rancher growled dangerously, his eyes burning with a fierce anger. The hands at his sides were balled into white fists. He drew a ragged breath and expelled it through clenched teeth. "I've been waitin' for the last five months to do that," he whispered hoarsely. With that, he straightened and stalked off towards his wagon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_x_

"Well, now...let's take a look here," muttered Doc as he carefully began to wipe the blood from Matt's swollen lip.

The Marshal was perched on a chair inside the jail, still trying to figure out what had driven Ben to attack him. By the time he had been able to collect himself, the rancher and his daughter had already disappeared inside the Dodge House. Doc had immediately rushed to his aid and wisely ushered him back into the office under the pretense of wanting to see after his lip.

Matt had realized right away what Doc was trying to do but he, too had figured it smarter to allow himself to cool down first before going after the rancher for some answers.

"...go on now, there ain't nothin' to goggle at!" they heard Chester grouse at some of the townsfolk that had flocked around him on the porch, curious to know what had happened. With a loud thud, he closed the door from the inside. "Well, I swan," he mumbled, shaking his head as he stepped up to the table and stooped down to eye the Marshal's lip. "You hurt bad there, Mister Dillon?" he inquired concerned.

"He's fine, Chester," snapped Doc, waving him off as if he was some kind of pesky insect, "now if he'd just hold still for a minute--"

Right away, Chester scowled.

"Well, forevermore," he mumbled insulted, throwing the doctor a rather unfriendly look before he straightened himself.

"You through with me there, Doc?" wondered Matt impatiently, eager to have his chat with Ben Rawlson in hopes of getting an explanation for the less than friendly reception.

The physician mumbled a reply and stepped aside, giving the Marshal a quiet affirmative.

"Thanks," said Matt, getting to his feet.

"You know," muttered Doc now, shaking his head as he snapped his medical bag shut, "I just don't understand this at all--"

Matt grabed his Stetson from its peg.

"Well, neither do I," he grumbled darkly, "but I sure aim to find out."

He slapped on the hat and ducked out the door only to suddenly find himself face to face with the man he had intended to see.

Immediately, Matt tensed. He took a deep calming breath, forcing down the anger that was beginning to well up inside him.

"Ben...I was just comin' to see you," he said guardedly, his eyes fastened on the rancher's to gauge his reaction.

"Well, you can save yourself the trouble," Ben Rawlson replied coldly, evenly holding the Marshal's gaze, "I'm here now."

The rancher's hostile tone caused Matt's stomach to give a slight lurch.

"You mind tellin' me what that 'nice' welcome was all about?" he wondered, his voice husky with annoyance. Almost without realizing it, his right hand reached for his cut lip and he flinched slightly.

Ben glared at him with unmistakable hostility.

"Matt," he said hoarsely, his face twisted in contempt, "that's nothin' compared to what I'm gonna do to you--

If the rancher's words did anything, they confused the Marshal even more; he fought hard to keep control of his temper that was quickly threatening to gain the upper hand.

"Don't you think it's about time you came right out with what you're accusin' me of?" he growled at the man that up to this point, he had thought of as his friend.

For a moment, Ben regarded him suspiciously.

"All right," he then said stiffly, turning to the woman behind him. "Beth--

Until now, Matt hadn't paid any attention to the young woman who was standing a few feet behind her father, now he couldn't help but notice her as the rancher took hold of her arm and pulled her to his side.

Without as much as a word, Ben stared at the Marshal in silence, his eyes challenging Matt to acknowledge something, he had no knowledge of.

Beth Rawlson was standing by her father's side, her gaze timidly lowered to her feet. It was obvious that Ben was waiting for the Marshal to make the next move.

Puzzled, Matt regarded the young woman, now noticing for the first time the infant in her arms. He was a little surprised, certain that there hadn't been any talk of Ben's daughter getting married, but he still had absolutely no idea what Ben was driving at.

Beth kept her gaze downcast and made no attempts at lifting it, so the Marshal turned his attention back to the rancher.

"Well? I still don't see what you're gettin' at," he said tensely, pushing his Stetson back.

Ben regarded him with disbelief, slowly shaking his head.

"Matt," he said and suddenly there was a trace, a hint of sadness and disappointment in his voice, "we've known each other for a long time...how could you've done--"

He suddenly broke off, stopping himself and then the anger flashed in his eye again. "I'm gonna give you the chance to make this right," he then growled, "you have until tomorrow night at sundown to think about it."

The threateningly spoken words, caused the Marshal's brow to furrow alarmed.

"Now you better spell that out," he demanded uneasily as he wrapped his fingers around his beltbuckle.

"You need it spelled out?" the rancher spat coldly, "all right, I spell it out for you...Either you marry Beth or I'm gonna kill you."

"Marry her?" Matt repeated uncomprehendingly, his expression suddenly growing blank.

But Rawlson ignored it.

"I'll be waitin' for you tomorrow night at sundown," he said in a clipped voice, pointing a finger at the lawman to emphasize his words. Then, without another word, he took hold of Beth's arm and ushered her back towards the hotel.

Hands on his hips, the Marshal watched in dumbfounded amazement as Ben and his daughter began to cross the street. He still wasn't sure what _exactly_ it was that the rancher was accusing him of, but it obviously had something to do with Beth--

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Doc's voice, suddenly startled him from his thoughts.

The physician stepped alongside his friend. Thoughtfully swiping at his mustache, he watched as Ben Rawlson and his daughter disappeared through the doors of the Dodge House. Then he turned to look up at his friend.

"I'd say, it's pretty obvious, Matt--"

Matt's brow furrowed.

"All right...if it's that obvious, why don't you explain it to me," he said crossly. By now, he just about had it; he was a straightforward man and he expected the people around him to be the same with him.

Doc scratched his ear, shaking his head slightly.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "somehow, Ben seems to think that you have somethin' to do with that baby."

"The baby? Oh, come on, Doc--" Matt quickly protested half irritated, half baffled; this was ridiculous, so utterly crazy, and yet--

As he now thought about it some more, it became painfully clear to him that the physician was probably right--it would certainly explain Ben's strange demand for him to marry Beth.

Matt was stunned; it seemed as if Ben was seriously thinking that he had--

He suddenly felt a cold sinking in his stomach as he began to realize the seriousness of the situation.

"Mister Dillon?" Chester wondered uneasily from beside him as his gaze traveled over the faces of some of the curious onlookers, "maybe we just oughtta go inside--"

His words made the lawman look up and he finally noticed the people gathered in the street, loudly whispering to each other. Ben had certainly spoken loud enough to draw the attention of half of Dodge, he thought grimly and then couldn't help but wonder whether they had understood the meaning behind Rawlson's words.

Annoyed, he loudly expelled air through his lips--false accusations were something, he had enough personal experience with to know that they could sometimes be almost impossible to fight. His mind drifted back to an incident barely two years ago when Red Samples had framed him on a murder charge in hopes of ridding Dodge of his presence so that the gambler could run his crooked games in town. Luckily, with the help of his old friend, Bill Hickock, he had been able to clear his name-but he definitely didn't want to go through something like that again.

Unsure of what to do next, he turned and stalked back into the jail, followed by Doc and Chester.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_x_

"...an' that's all," Matt finished when he was done recalling to his friends how he had spent the night at the Rawlson's ranch last September. It was early evening by now and Chester had more or less talked him into joining Kitty and Doc Adams at the Long Branch for a beer. He hadn't felt much like venturing out, much less like discussing the affair regarding Ben Rawlson and his daughter, but Doc and Chester were his friends and Kitty--well, she was much more than that.

Doc swiped a quick hand across his mustache.

"Say," he began, "don't you have any idea, why Ben 'd think that you--"

The doctor hesitated, not comfortable with speaking out loud the offensive thought.

The mere idea of what Ben Rawlson was accusing him of, made Matt's face turn red with embarrassment and anger.

"What makes you think, I know?" he replied a little testier than he had intended to as he leaned forward onto the table, his fingers absently fidgeting with the handle of his beer mug.

Kitty sighed and reached out, gently restraining his nervous hand.

"Matt...I'm sure, there's an explanation for all this," she told him with an assuring smile, squeezing his hand lightly. She had known Matt for five years now and probably knew him better than anybody, except maybe for the doctor. There was no doubt in her mind that he was telling the truth.

"Well, yeah,...especially with you sleepin' in the barn an' all," Chester now added, remembering the Marshal's earlier account of that night.

_"_Tell me, Matt," the doctor said as he leaned slightly forward, pointing a finger at his friend, "was there any time at all, where you were alone in the house with Beth?"

The Marshal shook his head slightly.

"No, Doc," he answered truthfully, "after supper I went outside to wash up an' then I went into the barn. " He paused and then added with emphasis, "an' that's where I stayed 'til the next mornin'."

Kitty thoughtfully tapped her chin.

"Could it be that Beth maybe left the house that night and Ben saw her?" she wondered.

"How would I know," Matt replied irritably. But he immediately caught himself when Kitty raised a reproving eyebrow and added, his tone considerably calmer now, "look...like I said...I was asleep."

Everyone at the table could feel the steadily mounting tension and for a long moment, an awkward silence reigned. The gay banter and noises of the patrons surrounded them but Matt felt strangely cut off from it all as his mind relived that night over and over again, trying to figure out whether he had missed a small detail somewhere. He couldn't come up with anything new.

"Matt?"

Kitty's hand on his arm suddenly jostled him from his thoughts and catching the slight hint of apprehension in her voice, he turned to face her. She nodded meaningfully towards the entrance and he let his eyes follow hers. So did Doc and Chester.

Ben Rawlson stood on the threshold, his gaze quickly scanning the saloon. For a second, his eyes came to rest on the Marshal and his face twitched slightly, but then he swiftly directed his steps towards the bar.

Immediately, Matt pushed his chair back, about to jump to his feet, but Kitty quickly put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Matt--" she implored, seeking out his eyes in a silent plea. She knew him well enough to understand what he was going through, but she also knew that at the moment, his usually good judgment was clouded by anger.

For a second, he remained frozen, apparently still trying to decide what to do and Doc, sensing it, came to her aid.

"Wait a minute there, Matt," he suggested, swiping at his mustache, "let me go an' talk to him...Ben's a sensible man, he'll listen to reason."

The Marshal relaxed imperceptibly.

_Why not_? Maybe the rancher was more willing to talk to the physician and give him the answers he hadn't been able to obtain--though he had to admit that beating the answers out of Ben probably would be much more satisfying at the moment.

"All right," he finally grumbled reluctantly and to everyone's relief, he dropped back down into his chair, adding somewhat sarcastically, "be my guest," with a sweeping gesture towards the bar.

Afraid that the Marshal might change his mind, Doc quickly rose to his feet and made his way up to the bar, the eyes of his friends following him.

"Matt...it's goin' to be all right," Kitty smiled assuringly as she gently rubbed his forearm in a comforting fashion.

Her words and the tender touch of her hand, caused him to reluctantly tear his gaze away from the counter.

"I sure hope so," he replied, giving her a weary smile. Not feeling much like talking, he lapsed into thoughtful silence again, his eyes absently fixed on the empty mug in his hands.

Kitty and Chester exchanged a worried glance and then turned their eyes back on the bar where the physician was now deeply engaged in conversation with Ben Rawlson.

The minutes passed painfully slow and it was difficult to tell whether Doc was having any success; their conversation was drowned out by the lively banter of the crowd and the tinny sound of the piano and their faces didn't give any indication as to what they were saying either.

Finally, the doctor broke away and shuffled back towards their table. His face was blank and it was impossible to tell, what he was thinking. All eyes watched expectantly as he lowered himself back down into his chair.

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Kitty was the first one to speak.

"Well?" she prompted, regarding the doctor curiously.

Doc didn't say a word, he just shook his head slowly, a disgusted look on his face.

Matt exhaled loudly but didn't say anything--somehow, he'd already figured that Ben wouldn't talk. All he could do now was hope that the rancher would come to his senses before--

_Before what? _ Matt suddenly found himself thinking; surely, Ben wasn't serious about calling him out--

Kitty glanced over at Doc, giving him a small smile which said 'thank-you-for-trying' before turning her attention back to the bar.

Ben had just finished his whiskey and was now approached by two cowboys that had been standing on the other side of the counter. They were gesturing and nodding their heads, quickly stealing a furtive glance at the lawman and then clapping the rancher on the shoulder before leaving.

Kitty couldn't hear what they were saying but she didn't have to--it was quite obvious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_x_

It was well past midnight and the Long Branch had just closed its doors for the day. The saloon was usually the Marshal's last stop when he was doing his rounds of the town and more often than not, he ended up there for the night. For some reason, he had finished a little earlier tonight and had found Kitty still busy with the nightly closing procedures.

"You know, Matt,...I was just thinking," Kitty said as she closed the door to the safe and straightened back up, "have you had a chance to talk to Ben's daughter yet?"

Matt shook his head slightly.

"No," he said slowly as he leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed in front of his chest, "no...never got around to it."

Kitty looked up at him, the hurricane lamp in her hands.

"Well, I think you should--I'm curious to hear what she has to say."

Matt straightened so that she could walk past him. He pulled the door to Kitty's small office shut and followed her.

"Believe me...so am I," he declared gloomily from behind her as he waited for her to give the bar room one final, inspecting glance.

The saloon, which had been filled with people, music and noise only a short hour ago, was now, in stark contrast, empty and quiet; the chairs had been placed on top of the tables and the floors had been swept, ready for a new day and a new crowd.

"Trouble is," he went on to say, watching as Kitty carried an empty beer mug behind the counter, "I don't see how...I doubt that Ben would let me even near her."

The pretty redhead nodded thoughtfully. "That's probably true."

When Matt saw that Kitty was finished, he took the hurricane lamp from the bar and motioned her to walk ahead of him up the stairs.

"Matt?"

Kitty suddenly stopped halfway up the staircase and turned to face him. The flickering light from the lamp bathed her pretty face in a soft glow and he thought that it made her red hair appear even redder--if that was possible.

"I could try and talk to her," she suggested, searching out his eyes, and despite himself, Matt had to smile.

"Yeah, I figured as much," he replied softly as he gently nudged her along, preferring to continue their conversation in the privacy of her room. 

Kitty watched him place the oil lamp on her dresser where it cast guttering, smoky shadows onto the walls.

"Say," she wondered, "you really think that it was Beth who told Ben that you--" She suddenly broke off, not able to bring herself to say what the rancher was accusing the lawman of.

With a scowl, Matt plopped himself down onto the settee.

"It's quite possible," he admitted shrugging, absently watching his hands as they fidgeted with the Stetson they were holding. "She sure didn't seem too surprised when Ben confronted me." He paused for a moment, recalling how Beth had refused to even look at him. "But that still leaves the question 'why'?" he then added frustrated.

Glancing up at her, he watched as she began to pull the pins from her hair, sending a cascade of red hair tumbling down her back.

That was a good question, Kitty thought. What reason could the girl possibly have for accusing him of being the father of her child? Revenge? No, not very likely-- _The baby,_ she suddenly realized--_it had to have something to do with the baby._

"Maybe she's afraid to tell Ben who the real father is," she suggested as she rose to her feet and started towards the adjoining washroom.

A frown began to crease the Marshal's forehead as he gave her words brief consideration.

"Maybe," he answered unconvinced, "but why pick me?" He shook his head. "No, Kitty...I don't think so".

It just didn't make any sense; if that would have been the case, Beth must have known that he just wouldn't go along with it quietly; he'd be crazy. Frustrated, he exhaled loudly as he ran his fingers through his hair.

The splashing, coming from the next room, told him that Kitty was washing up and his mind turned back to that night he had spent at the Rawlson's place, trying to recall again every detail, no matter how insignificant. Suddenly, he remembered how Beth had left the dinner table that night, obviously distressed over something--

Automatically, Matt straightened, struggling to bring the conversation he had with Ben that evening to mind. They had discussed the trial of Seth Walker, along with some other irrelevant issues, like the prize of cattle but nothing that would have warranted her strange behavior.

Suddenly, his earlier altercation with Ben came to the forefront of his mind again.

_I'm gonna give you until tomorrow night at sundown to make your choice. _

To make a choice? There was no choice for him to make; he had nothing to do with Beth's child. He hadn't laid as much as a finger on the girl--she was almost still a child herself.

No, there was no reason to wait until tomorrow night--he would go over to the Dodge House first thing in the morning and make Ben listen to him.

Matt was pulled from his thoughts as Kitty, now dressed in her nightgown and frilly robe, re-entered theroom. She regarded him curiously when she noticed that he hadn't made any attempts to undress.

"I know how you feel, cowboy," she said gently upon noticing the expression of deep concern on his face, "but it's getting late and there's nothing else you can do tonight, so you might as well try and get some sleep."

She stepped up to him and placed a slender hand on the side of his face, caressing it tenderly. "Maybe things'll look different in the morning,"she addedconfidently as she brushed back an unruly curl that had fallen on his forehead.

Matt lifted his gaze to her and heaved a sigh.

"Yeah," he said unconvinced but nevertheless, giving her a small smile, "maybe so."

He dropped his Stetson onto the table, rose to his feet and began to undo his gunbelt.

Soon, he was stretched out alongside her in the comfortable cast-iron bedstead.

But as much as Matt tried, sleep just wouldn't come. Two hours later, he was still gazing thoughtfully into the semi-darkness of Kitty's room, his back against the headboard, his hands clasped behind his head, the sheet crumpled down to his waist. A soft breeze came in through the open window, gently playing with the lace curtains. The cool night air felt good as it settled on his face and bare chest, doing its part to keep him awake.

_Maybe Kitty's right_, he thought to himself; maybe he should let her try and talk to Ben's daughter--there was a good chance that Beth would be less intimidated by another woman and more willing to talk. He was convinced by now that Ben's behavior was the result of something that his daughter had told him--something that was far from the truth.

His musings were suddenly interrupted as Kitty began to stir beside him. His eyes wandered down to the pretty redhead who was snuggling closer against his side. Her left hand came to rest on his stomach, and Matt couldn't help a slight shiver of awareness at the warmth of her touch.

For a moment, he regarded her with warm tenderness as he listened to her slow, even breathing. Kitty knew him better than anybody, probably even including himself. She was his confidante, the one he shared his innermost feelings with--something that hadn't come easy to him at first. He knew that she believed him without question and the thought was assuring.

Carefully, he slid back down onto his pillow and brought his arm around her, pulling her body closer against his own. Her hair was tickling his face and he reached out, gently smoothing it back, its familiar, flowery scent filling his nostrils. Ever so slowly, he ran his hand along the curve of her shoulder and then further down her side, savoring the softness and warmth of her skin and the comfort it gave.

With a soft moan, Kitty began to stir again as she became aware of his touch. The gentle urgency of his embrace communicated to her his need for comfort and she molded herself closer to him.

"Go, to sleep, Matt," she whispered softly as her hand began to tenderly slide across his chest in soothing circles--a motion that elicited a low murmur of content from him.

He remembered her earlier words-_maybe things'll look different in the morning. _

_Yes, maybe they will_, he told himself confidently as he took a slow, deep breath and finally closed his eyes.

It was a good thing that the Marshal didn't know what the new day had in store for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_x_

He was out of coal oil again. When he had come home from the Long Branch last night, he had been surprised to find both of his hurricane lamps empty and he had been forced to rummage through numerous drawers in the dark in an attempt to locate some candles.

Doc Adams pulled the watch from his pocket and snapped it open, briefly glancing at its face; almost eight in the morning. With a satisfied grunt, he snapped it shut again and shoved it back into his pocket. He shuffled over to the coat rack to retrieve his hat and coat and then slipped out the door.

Muttering softly to himself, he climbed down the stairs and started up the street towards Jonas' Mercantile.

It would be nice indeed if folks around Dodge would pay him in cash more often, he thought to himself as his hand reached into his pocket, fumbling with the few coins it contained; maybe he should insist on it and begin to enforce his table of fees which he had brought with him when he had come to Dodge so many years ago; now it lay unused and forgotten in the back of a drawer of his rickety desk, covered in dust.

He waved himself off--no, it'd never work. He knew in his heart that he could never refuse treatment to anybody who needed it but couldn't afford to pay, which, unfortunately, were half of the sodbusters and homesteaders around Dodge.

Even though it was still quite early, the town was already bustling with activity. Wagons were going up and down Front Street, and people everywhere had begun to go about their daily business.

As soon as the physician stepped up onto the raised sidewalk of the store, he was greeted by excited talking, coming from inside the mercantile.

Curiously, he entered the store, only to find a large group of maybe ten to twelve men, all crowded in a corner, loudly carrying on among themselves. With a quick swipe at his scruffy mustache, Doc stopped to find out what the clamor was all about. Some of the men were waving dollar bills in the air, shouting, and Doc realized that they were all clustering around somebody.

His interest peaked, the physician began to circle the group, trying to find the best spot to shoulder his way in.

"Oh, Doc," someone suddenly called out to him, "come over here!"

It was Wilbur Jonas, the store owner. He was standing at the edge of the group, several dollar bills in his hand.

Doc pushed his hat back to scratch his forehead.

"Well, by thunder,...what's that all about, Jonas?" he said astounded.

But the excited storekeeper didn't seem to hear the query.

"Say...who're you bettin' on, Doc?" he wondered instead.

Doc blinked.

"Beg your pardon?" he asked confused.

But once again, Jonas ignored the question.

"I'm bettin' five dollars on the Marshal," he rattled on enthusiastically instead, "he's the faster gun." He paused for a second and then added, "though I have to say...I can't much agree on what he did to that poor Rawlson girl."

"What'd you just say?"

Doc didn't want to believe his ears. "Did I just hear you right? You're bettin' on who's gonna w--" He suddenly stopped dead as the full, terrible realization of what Jonas had said, hit him.

Wilbur Jonas sensed the foreboding tone in the physician's voice and it somewhat curbed his enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on, Doc," he said dismissively, "the whole town's talkin' about nothin' else--"

By now, some of the other men standin near by, had taken notice of the developing argument and Anderson, the freight clerk stepped in.

"I'm bettin' two dollars on that Rawlson-fella," he informed the doctor, "he sure's mad as hell an' that'll give him an edge--"

Loud murmuring suddenly erupted behind him as apparently everyone else tried to voice their own opinion.

Doc Adams was dumfounded. He couldn't believe that this was happening, and he just mutely shook his head.

"I don't believe it", he mumbled to himself and with that, his coal oil suddenly completely forgotten, he stomped from the store.

_x_

"Matt, by golly," he shouted as he literally flew through the door of the jail moments later, "you know what they're doin' out there?"

He came to a halt in front of the desk, where Matt was about to take a sip from his coffee, and shoved his finger into the lawman's face while his other hand pointed angrily towards the door.

The Marshal looked up, politely puzzled.

"No," he answered calmly, "but I'm sure you gonna tell me."

The lawman's calm demeanor agitated the doctor even more.

"Doggone it, Matt," he now groused, "I just came from Jonas' store and those fellas over there are placin' bets on who's gonna win tonight!"

"Win tonight?" repeated Matt looking perplexed, "what're you talkin' about?"

Doc's eyebrows scrunched up even more.

"Oh, fer heaven's sakes...they're bettin' on you an' Ben!" he went on to clarify.

That was clear enough. Matt's face suddenly turned serious. He half rose from his chair, for a moment staring thoughtfully into Doc's face. This had gone far enough and he was going to put an end to this right now. He had planned on letting Kitty try and talk to Rawlson's daughter first but what Doc had just told him, shed a whole new light on things.

The physician saw the thoughtful expression on his friend's face suddenly turn into one of determined resolve and it alarmed him more than just a little. He brushed a quick hand across his mustache.

"What're gonna do, Matt?" he wondered uneasily.

"I'm gonna go and see Ben," the Marshal said shortly as he straightened up and came around his desk.

"What makes you think, he's gonna listen to you?" the physician challenged, watching as Matt pulled his gunbelt from its peg and began to buckle it up.

"I'll make him listen, Doc...this has gone far enough."

Matt put his foot on the seat of the nearest chair and began to fasten the leather strap around his thigh.

"Well," Doc said, realizing that there wasn't much else he could do or say, "you just be careful."

Matt grabbed his Stetson and slapped it on.

"I am to," he replied.

With that, he ducked out the door and was gone.

_x_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_x_

One thing that was nice about Dodge was that most important businesses and establishments were all easy to find, being conveniently located on the main strip, in this case, on Front Street. The Dodge House was almost straight across from the Marshal's office and this was where Matt now directed his steps.

He had just crossed the dusty street and was about to step up onto the plank boardwalk of the hotel when someone suddenly called out to him.

"Hey, Marshal!"

Matt stopped and turned.

"Just wanted to wish you good luck tonight," Doug Seymour said, grinning, "not that you need it, mind you," the cowboy then quickly added, misinterpreting the frown that had suddenly begun to crease the Marshal's forehead. "I bet five dollars that you're gonna outdraw that Rawlson-fella."

Matt took a deep breath, trying hard to force down the sudden surge of anger. He wasn't very successful.

"Get out of my way!" he growled harshly, pushing the other man aside.

With few strides, he reached the hotel and entered. The lobby was empty, save for Moss Grimmick who was comfortably lounging in one of the upholstered chairs, reading the latest edition of the 'Dodge City News' as he always did. He looked up when he saw the lawman.

"Mornin', Marshal," he greeted him with a nod and then turned back to his paper.

Matt was thankful that; he was certain that the livery man undoubtedly had to be aware of the gossip and he was glad that the old man didn't make mention of it.

"Hello, Moss," he answered and headed for the counter from where Howie Uzzell, the hotel clerk was watching him approach.

"Mornin' Marshal,"said the clerk, politely as ever, but the usual smile was missing and Matt noticed it at once.

"What room's Ben Rawlson in?" Matt asked.

Howie pursed his lip in thought.

"Ben Rawlson--" he repeated slowly as if having to think about it first, and Matt, feeling the last of his patience quickly fade, simply grabbed the ledger from underneath the clerk's hands and flipped it around so that he could find out for himself.

"Thanks," he said curtly, shoving the book back at the surprised clerk and then headed for the staircase.

He had made it halfway up, when he suddenly found himself face to face with Beth Rawlson. The young woman was as surprised as he was and she froze. The baby clutched tightly to her bosom, she stared down at him, uncertain.

It seemed a very long time that Matt stood and stared up at her before finally addressing her.

"Miss Rawlson," he said, wisely staying where he was so as not to frighten her, "I'd like to have a word with you."

She didn't answer him--instead, she suddenly stiffened, her eyes turning searching towards the top of the stairs.

Matt knew right away who she was looking for.

Seconds later, Ben Rawlson appeared on the top landing, quickly taking in the situation.

"Stay away from her, Matt," he harshly as he pointed a finger at the lawman, "you've done enough damage already!" His voice was threatening and the right hand which was poised readily above his gun, reinforced his words.

Matt saw it and tensed, but he didn't back down.

"I'm not goin' anywhere 'til you hear me out, Ben," he replied firmly, his left hand clutching the handrail as he took another step.

"Stay where you are," Ben warned again as he pulled the colt from his holster and pointed it at the lawman. "Beth," he then addressed his daughter who was still staring at the Marshal, her expression unreadable, "get back up here."

His words made her jolt and she quickly obliged. Ben's mouth twitched slightly as she made her way past him onto the landing but his gaze remained focused on the lawman.

"Go, Matt," he said hoarsely, "I gave you 'til tonight."

"Ben," Matt said tensely after taking a deep, controlling breath, determined to make him hear what he had to say, "listen to me...I don't know where you got that fool-notion from but I've got nothin' to do with that child...I never touched your daughter." He firmly held the rancher's gaze and then added, briefly nodding at Beth, "why don't you ask her yourself?"

But Ben apparently had no intentions to do so.

"That's it?" he said surprised instead, "You think it's gonna be that simple? You think, you can just walk in here an' tell me you didn't touch Beth and expect me to believe you? No, my friend," he shook his head slightly, "you're not gonna get out of it that easy." He paused, drawing a shaky breath as he felt his anger flare up again. "Matt, you abused our friendship, you dishonored my daughter--our family," he hissed vehemently and then broke off, the gun in his hand now trembling. "Go...get out," he then whispered hoarsely, "you have until sundown...I'll be waitin' for you."

Matt felt a shudder run down his back; his eyes wandered from the barrel of the colt up to the rancher's eyes; what he saw in them, made him loose the last of his hope that this could be settled peacefully. There was a strong finality in the way Ben stared at him, a determination beyond reasoning.

"I'm not gonna put my gun against you, Ben," he said flatly.

"Then you'll die, Matt," the rancher responded coldly.

For another moment, the Marshal continued to stare at his friend, hoping that he had been mistaken, maybe misinterpreted the expression in his eye, but he quickly realized that it was not so. Without another word, he wheeled around and left.

_x_

Angrily, Matt crossed the street with long strides, oblivious to the ongoings around him. He was quickly beginning to get fed up enough with things to let them happen the way they wanted. If Ben wanted to call him out--fine; maybe he wouldn't refuse to fight him.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he literally ran into Kitty as she was just leaving the jail.

"Well,...someone's in a hurry," she remarked dryly when she unexpectedly found herself being pushed backwards into the door she had just pulled shut behind herself.

"Kitty--" Matt said, startled, looking down at her. "Sorry," he quickly added when he realized what he had done.

"It's all right, Matt," she answered as she regarded him with uneasy curiosity, "where've you been? I was lookin' for you."

The expression on his face alarmed her and Kitty immediately knew where he had been.

"You went to see Ben," she said; it was really more of a statement than a question.

Matt nodded slowly, his anger suddenly gone.

"I take it, it didn't go too well," Kitty carefully probed further, looking up at him with concern.

"Nope."

He didn't look at her but braced himself against the brickwall with one hand instead, his gaze fixed on the plank flooring of the porch while his other hand tiredly rubbed the back of his neck.

Kitty sighed.

"Matt, I--" she started to say but suddenly broke off when she noticed that a couple which had been passing by, had stopped and was now unabashed watching them.

The Marshal lifted his gaze, curious to know why she had suddenly fallen silent and his face immediately darkened when he saw the reason.

"Come on," he grumbled, shooting the couple an irritated glance before taking hold of her elbow as he opened the door with the other hand, "let's go inside."

"Oh, Matt," said Kitty exasperated, turning to him as soon as he had closed the door, "this is getting ridiculous!"

"You tell me," he replied annoyed, carelessly throwing his hat on its peg. Ben Rawlson had come to Dodge less than a day ago and in that time, had managed to turn half the town against him with his false accusations.

Kitty pulled herself up; this had gone far enough indeed.

"Matt...I'm going over there right now and see if I can't talk to her," she said resolutely, her face set in determination.

The Marshal took a deep breath.

"Look, Kitty," he tried to explain patiently, "I tried...Doc tried...what makes you think, Ben'll let you talk to her?"

She arched a knowing eyebrow and smiled slyly.

"Well, for one thing...I'm not going to ask Ben--"

Matt regarded her quizzically, prompting Kitty to explain.

"I'm sure that Ben doesn't keep her locked up in her room all day."

He nodded slowly.

"I s'pose not."

It was certainly worth a try and who knows, maybe Kitty could get the girl to talk.

"All right," he then added, looking down at her worriedly, "but you be careful."

"I'll be just fine, Matt," she assured him, quickly patting his arm before she slipped out the door he was holding for her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_x_

It was well past one; normally, he would be sitting at Delmonico's by now, having lunch--not so today. It wasn't just the lack of appetite that kept him away, it was also the people.

All morning long, townsfolk had been whispering behind his back, staring and pointing at him wherever he had went. Some, like Doug Seymour had approached him and told him that they 'were on his side' as they had so nicely put it, while others had outright voiced their disapproval over the presumed affair with Beth Rawlson. Words like '_the poor girl' _and _'he oughtta be ashamed' _were still ringing in his ears and by now, Matt just about had it.

Still, he couldn't help but be amazed at how quickly the gossip had spread through town but then again, wasn't that the way it always was? Bad news usually had a way of traveling like wildfire.

Needing something to take his mind off things, he had begun to sort through a stack of circulars that really didn't need sorting. His head suddenly snapped up as the door to the office was unexpectedly opened.

It was Chester.

"My goodness, Mister Dillon," exclaimed the young man as he hurriedly limped over to the desk where the Marshal was sitting, "them folks are just plump crazy out there!" He waved his hand towards the door to emphasize his words.

"What's the matter now, Chester," Matt wondered wearily, not exactly keen to find out. He cast his friend a quick glance and was about to turn his attention back to the circulars, when his head suddenly jerked back up, his eyes now fastening on Chester's face. "What'd you do," he said, surprised, "get into a fight?"

Scowling, Chester carefully fingered his rapidly swelling eye.

"Oh...well," he muttered, "you remember that there Morlan-fella? Ya know, the one that always likes to give you trouble?"

Matt nodded slightly.

"Yeah,...what's he doin' now," he asked and then added, pointing at Chester's face, "besides beatin' you up that is?"

Chester started to squirm uncomfortably.

"Well," he began, "it ain't so much what he does...that don't bother me none...it's what he says--"

Matt barely supressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well?" he prompted wearily instead, "what's he sayin'?"

Now Chester looked clearly outraged.

"Ya know...he's out there a-tellin' ev'ryone that wants to listen that you ain't fit to be Marshal anymore on the account of that Rawlson-girl...he says, it serves you right if Ben Rawlson shoots you down...what do you make of that?"

"Oh, that's just talk, Chester," Matt tried to dismiss it, waving him off, Chester apparently didn't think so.

"Well, I know that," he argued back, "but a lot of folks already seem to be agreein' with him--"

The Marshal took a deep breath and held it for a moment before tiredly expelling it.

"Look, Chester," he then said, patiently, "I can't stop people from talkin' just because I don't agree with 'em."

"Well,...maybe so," the young man admitted reluctantly and after quick consideration, added, now almost defiantly, "but it still ain't right--"

Matt regarded him for a moment, not sure what to say; he was touched by Chester's loyalty, and he was glad to have him on his side but he also knew that he couldn't arrest every person in Dodge that spoke out against him; if he did that, he'd have to add on to the jail.

"You'd better do somethin' about that eye there," he said instead, pointing to his assistant's face that had begun to sport an impressive shiner.

"Oh," grumbled Chester, more concerned with the way people talked about his friend than the state of his eye, "never mind about that--"

Sullenly, he turned towards the stove and began to pour himself a cup of coffee.

_x_

Kitty couldn't tell how long she had been sitting in the lobby of the Dodge House, pretending to read the newspaper--all she knew was that she could recite the front page, she had been reading over and over, by heart now. At last, just when she thought she couldn't stand it any longer, she spotted Ben Rawlson coming down the stairs, and--he was alone.

This was her chance.

As soon as he had left the hotel, she put the paper aside and approached the counter.

"Howie," she said, giving the clerk her best smile, "what room is Miss Rawlson in please?"

Not at all surprised by her inquiry, the clerk looked at her knowingly. "Room six, Miss Russell," he informed her and then quickly added as she was about to head for the staircase, "but if you're lookin' for the young lady, she's out back." He smiled and pointed towards the door leading onto the back porch of the hotel.

_x_

Soft singing greeted Kitty as she stepped out into the small garden. She craned her neck, trying to locate its source. There, sitting on a bench beside a trellis, covered with pink climbing roses, was Beth Rawlson, gently rocking her baby as she continued to sing to him.

For a moment, Kitty's eyes lingered on the enchanting scene which stirred familiar feelings inside her. They were feelings of longing--a longing for things beyond being the successful co-owner of the Long Branch saloon and the Marshal's woman.

Kitty swallowed and quickly shook off her thoughts as she brought to mind her reason for being here.

"Miss Rawlson?" she said as she carefully approached the young woman.

Immediately, Beth startled, alarmed.

"I'm sorry," said Kitty quickly, smiling at her, "I didn't mean to startle you...may I sit down?"

Beth nodded, looking at her somewhat suspiciously.

"How did you know my name?" she wondered.

"News travel fast in Dodge," Kitty replied vaguely, not thinking it wise to come out with the truth right away. "My name's Kitty Russell," she then added.

Beth Rawlson gave her a shy smile and then turned her attention back to the baby.

"That's a beautiful baby," Kitty remarked, leaning closer to get a better look at the sleeping infant.

"Isn't he?" replied the young woman softly as she fondly stroked his small head, covered in dark peach fuzz.

"What's his name?"

"His name's Jacob," Beth answered, "but I call him Jake." She regarded Kitty with the pride typical of a new mother.

Kitty nodded. "That's a nice name," she agreed and then decided to go one step further. "You and your husband must be very proud--"

Right away, the smile on Beth's face faded.

"Miss Russell," she now said suspiciously, "I think you know that I'm not married." She studied Kitty's face for a brief moment. "I also think that you know why I'm in Dodge," she then went on to say, her tone closely guarded as she clutched the baby tighter to her chest.

_The girl's catching on quickly,_ Kitty thought silently and then said out loud, "Yes, Beth...I know why you're here."

There was no sense in beating around the bush--the sooner she could get some answers, the quicker this affair could get cleared up. She took a deep breath.

"Beth," she then said bluntly, "we both know that Matt Dillon isn't the father of your baby." Her voice was calm, yet firm as her eyes searched Beth Rawlson's.

At the words, the young woman's eyes narrowed and her face turned dark.

"Yes, he is!" she blurted out defiantly, her voice rising, "he--he came to my room and--and he..." she suddenly broke off and swallowed heavily, tears stinging her eyes.

"Yes, he is," she added in a defiant whisper.

Kitty knew immediately that she had struck a nerve and, untouched by the young woman's tears which seemed somewhat unconvincing, she went on. "Beth," she said coolly, "the Marshal said that he was in the barn the entire night."

Beth looked at her with fierce resentment.

"How would you know," she challenged angrily, running the back of her hand across her eyes to wipe away the tears.

"He told me," Kitty replied matter-of-factly, her eyes firmly holding Beth's gaze, "and I happen to believe him."

There was no doubt in her mind as to who was lying here and the girl's act didn't fool her one bit.

A look of comprehension suddenly began to dawn on the young woman's face. "He sent you, didn't he?" she said resentfully, referring to the Marshal.

"No, this was my idea," Kitty stated flatly.

_Well,...maybe not entirely but that was beside the point_, she figured.

Beth stared at her for another second and then her pretty face stiffened.

"Go away...leave me alone!" she suddenly burst out, turning her tear-streaked face away.

Kitty arched an eyebrow and rose to her feet. She looked down at the young woman.

"I will," she told her calmly, "but first you listen to me... Your father and the Marshal are goin' to meet on Front Street tonight."

Beth suddenly looked up at her and Kitty, glad that she had her attention, went on.

"Let me tell you somethin', honey...your father is no match for Matt Dillon--"

Beth's lips suddenly began to tremble. They moved slightly as though she were going to say something, but she simply continued to stare uncertain at the redhead towering in front of her.

And Kitty was far from being finished.

"I don't know what it is, you're playing at," she said coldly, her face now hard, unsmiling, "but unless you stop this, your father's goin' to die tonight."

With one final glance at Rawlson's daughter, Kitty turned around and marched from the garden, silently praying that she had gotten the point across.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_x_

Almost three o'clock. Matt stopped pacing the office for a moment and began to stare out the window again. Kitty had left well over two hours ago and he hadn't seen her since.

His hope, that she had been able to talk some sense into Ben's daughter was steadily growing slimmer with each passing minute.

He wanted to go out and find her but at the same time, didn't quite trust his own temper, should someone approach him again--which, in all likelihood, was bound to happen, given the fact that all of Dodge had to be aware of the impending fight by now.

Ben was his friend--or at least he still wanted to think of him that way, and Matt didn't want to draw against his friend. He didn't want this fight--he hadn't asked for it. He tried not to think about it but the same thought kept haunting him--it was so damn frustrating.

"Matt?"

Completely lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed that the door to the jail had been opened. His head jerked around and his eyes came to rest on Kitty. He tried to give her a smile but it came out rather strained.

"How'd go?" he wondered quietly as he ran a restless hand through his hair.

He looked tired and Kitty could see the weariness in his eye as he glanced down at her.

"Well," she began slowly, "when I confronted her, she outright accused you at first."

The words caused the Marshal to draw himself up and inhale sharply and Kitty, catching it quickly went on. "But I gave her something to think about and unless I'm very much mistaken, she's gonna talk to Ben."

He blew out a tired breath and turned back to the window, bracing himself on the brick wall with his hand.

"Well...let's hope so," he muttered worriedly

He barely took notice of her comforting hand on his arm as he began to once again stare out into the street, not wanting her to see the helpless expression on his face.

_x_

Beth didn't disappoint Kitty. The young woman had been thinking. Up to this point, she hadn't even bothered to think it all through and consider the consequences of her actions. She had been too angry, too hurt over Seth's death to even think clearly.

All she knew was that she hated Marshal Dillon--hated him for bringing Seth in. In her eyes, it was the lawman that had caused his death, not the young man's own irresponsible actions. They had planned on leaving quietly when she had found out that she was with his child, knowing that her parents never would have accepted Seth Walker--but it hadn't worked out as planned.

When she hadn't been able to conceal her condition from her parents any longer, they had of course demanded an answer and, driven by fear of her father and hate for the Marshal, she had accused the lawman of seducing her.

Unfortunately, the one thing she hadn't counted on, was her father taking her to Dodge and make her face the Marshal, demanding that he marry her. Had she known that this might happen, she would have thought about it twice.

Beth had no intention of getting married to Matt Dillon, all she wanted, was for her father to hurt him--hurt him for causing the death of the young man she had loved.

Now, for the first time, after her talk with Kitty Russell, she was faced with the very real fact that her father could get hurt, or even worse, get killed in the process.

Beth bit down on her lower lip until it hurt.

_I'll talk to him, tell him that I lied, I can't let him fight the Marshal_, she thought to herself.

A series of sharp knocks on her door suddenly interrupted her thoughts. Quickly, she took a deep, calming breath before calling, "Who is it?"

"Beth--it's me," came Ben Rawlson's tense voice from the other side of the door.

Hastily, she smoothed out her dress before opening the door.

Ben stepped inside, quickly glancing around the room.

"Where've you been?" he wondered as he turned his attention back to her.

Beth stared at her father, ignoring his query.

"Pa...please don't do it!" she suddenly burst out before she could stop herself.

Immediately, Ben's eyes narrowed. He looked at her suspiciously

"What're you talkin' about?" he demanded.

"Please, pa," she begged again, encouraged by her own boldness, "it's not too late yet...let's just go back home--"

Comprehension suddenly lit up the rancher's face.

"Who've you been talkin' to, Beth?" he hissed as he regarded her closely.

"No one...I--" she hesitated, her voice faltering and suddenly, she was afraid again; she couldn't do it--couldn't tell him that it was all a lie. "Pa...please...don't...you'll get yourself killed," she pleaded faintly, her voice now no more than a desperate whisper.

Ben looked at her in disbelief.

"Beth," he implored, his voice urgent, "after what he's done to you--to your mother and me?" He shook his head slightly, not willing to dwell on it. "No...Matt Dillon's gonna pay for this!" he finished vehemently.

A whimper escaped her throat and she quickly pressed the back of her hand over her mouth to stifle it. It was no use, she couldn't do it--

Ben stepped up to her and gripped her by her shoulders. His eyes began to search his daughter's.

"Pull yourself together," he urged, "nobody's gonna have to die if he agrees to make this right, Beth--"

"What if I don't want to marry him?" she shot back desperately, hoping that her refusal would stop him from going after Matt Dillon.

His grip on her shoulders tightened.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, studying her face her intently, "it's his child, isn't it?" He shook her slightly when she didn't answer right away, "isn't it?"

Now would have been her chance to tell the truth, but she couldn't muster up the courage to do so.

"Yes," she whispered instead, unable to look him in the eye.

For another second, Ben's eyes lingered on his daughter.

"Good," he then said, apparently satisfied, "that settles that." He let go of her arms. "Now get yourself cleaned up and we'll go and have a bite to eat."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_x_

Almost eight now. As the minutes continued to tick by slowly, a tense silence had fallen over the Marshal's office; a silence, that neither one of the two men present seemed either able or willing to break.

Chester was perched on the edge of his cot, whittling away at a piece of wood with his pocket knife, his lack of enthusiasm obvious while the Marshal, having gotten the sudden urge to do something--anything, had pulled one of the shotguns from the rifle rack and begun to clean it.

His mind wasn't in it though and it showed--his hand absently ran the oiled rag repeatedly across the same spot on the barrel while his eyes stared blankly down at the gun. Soon, the sun would set and Ben would call him out. Then he would be forced to make up his mind. It was the only thing, he had been able to think of as the day had progressed and he still hadn't come to a decision; either draw on his friend and potentially kill him or refuse to fight and risk being killed himself. Ben wasn't a gunman and Matt knew that the rancher wouldn't stand a chance against him.

He tried telling himself that it would be self-defense but he couldn't convince himself; in his heart, he knew that it wasn't so--it would be murder. And why? Because Ben chose to believe a lie rather than give him a chance to explain his side.

The sudden creaking as the door to the jail was being opened, made him look up. It was Doc.

"Matt," he exclaimed excitedly as he shuffled over to the desk, not even bothering with shutting the door, "that baby...by golly...that's no newborn at all!" He wagged one hand towards the door while the other swiped quickly across his mustache.

"Baby?" echoed Matt with a puzzled frown as he looked up at the doctor, "what're you talkin' about?" Lately, the word '_baby'_ seemed to be triggering less than positive feelings inside him.

Doc rubbed his neck. "I was just over at Delmonico's an' I saw Ben and his daughter there...she had the baby with her ,an' let me tell ya, Matt...that's no newborn there." He shook his head affirmatively.

Chester put down the knife and looked at the physician with interest, but Matt's frown only deepened.

"So?" he said, not understanding, "I don't see where that's gonna help me any--"

"Well, don't you understand?" groused Doc irritably at the lawman's obvious lack of understanding, "from what I've seen, that baby has to be at least two, most likely even three months old." He paused, waiting for Matt to make a connection, but the Marshal simply stared at him blankly.

"Well, goodness gracious," he said exasperated, "just think, Marshal...how long ago was it that you stayed at Ben's place?"

"Last September, Doc," answered Matt, deciding to play along even though he still had no idea where this was going.

"Last September," repeated the doctor, "and now it's June."

Matt was ticking off the months in his head but apparently not fast enough for Doc.

"For heavens sakes...don't you see?" the physician prompted impatiently, "nine months, Matt...it couldn't've been you--even Ben can't argue with that...I bet, that baby was probably born around April."

Chester, having had his nose in numerous of the doctor's medical books, finally caught on to what Doc was trying to say.

"You mean," he said to Doc as comprehension light up his face, "she was--"

The physician nodded, finishing Chester's thoughts. "She was already with child last September--"

Slowly, Matt began to understand. "I see."

"My goodness, Mister Dillon,"exclaimed Chester excitedly, "even Ben can't argue with that now, can't he?"

"I sure hope so, Chester," replied Matt thoughtfully as he turned his gaze to the window, watching as the last rays of the sinking sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

_x_

It was time.

His hands were trembling as Ben Rawlson fumbled nervously with the buckle of his gunbelt. For a second, he hesitated, his daughter's words suddenly springing to mind as her muffled sobs, coming from the adjoining room carried to his ear; _let's just go back home--_

Yes, he could do that, he thought to himself--they could just go home and no one would get hurt. The only problem with that was the fact, that he would have to live with the knowledge that his daughter had been dishonored by a man that he had trusted, a man that he had considered his friend.

He couldn't do it--he couldn't live with the shame that Matt Dillon had brought over his family, especially not with the child, which had resulted from this undesired union, to serve as a constant reminder.

No, Matt had to pay if he wasn't willing to make it right and marry her.

His face suddenly grew taut as he made his decision. Swiftly, he finished buckling up his holster. The gun felt unusually heavy at his side. Ben drew the colt from its holster and regarded it thoughtfully; he wasn't a gunman, he knew that but he had shot a man once--

It had been a cattle rustler who had opened fire on him and his men. He had taken him down with one clean shot in the chest, killing the man instantly. There hadn't been any bad feelings on his part, no regret--it had been either him or the other man. The outlaw had deserved to die. This wasn't going to be any different, or was it?

No, Ben told himself as his mouth drew into a thin line, Matt Dillon had taken something precious from him and he had the right to defend himself and the ones he loved.

The possibility that he could be the one getting killed in the process didn't even enter his mind as he shoved the gun back into its holster and started for the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_x_

"MATT!"

Ben's sudden shout carried across the street like the sharp crack of gunfire, and the Marshal's head jerked up at the sound of it.

Slowly, he rose from the edge of his desk where he had been perched, filling the empty chamber of his colt with a sixth cartridge. He swallowed once and squared himself, briskly sliding the gun back into its holster with customary ease.

Over the years, he had been in his share of gunfights and the tense anxiety he always felt right before one hadn't lessened with time but this was by far worse--the knowledge that the man he was about to face didn't deserve to die, was wearing on him badly.

Up to know, it had always been clearly defined; the badge on his chest had placed him on the side of the law, giving him permission to kill if need be, but this was different; Ben wasn't some outlaw--he was his friend.

His heart was pumping heavily in his chest as he strode over to the door. He would try and talk to Ben, he would try and explain to him what Doc had said.

He could feel Doc's and Chester's eyes on him as he reached for his hat. _What if Ben refused to listen?_

"Mister Dillon--" Chester began in a final effort to persuade him not to go, but the Marshal interrupted him.

"You two stay here," he said, turning to his friend.

The firmness with which he spoke, silenced any further objections the young man was about to make. Chester regarded him deeply worried. So did the doctor. It wasn't so much that he was afraid that Ben would gun Matt down--it'd most likely be the other way around--the question just was, how would Matt deal with having been forced to draw on his friend, maybe even killing him, all over a lie.

"MATT--I'M WAITIN'!" Ben called again.

All right. That was it. The lawman straightened and took a deep breath as his right hand quickly brushed over the butt of his colt while his left grabbed hold of the doorknob.

_x_

An empty street greeted him as he stepped out onto the porch. But although Front Street seemed deserted, Matt was certain that people were watching from behind the safety of their windows.

His eyes moved down the street to the Long Branch where he saw that a crowd had already gathered on the plank sidewalk to satisfy their morbid curiosity. Excited whispers were now erupting from it as people had begun to take notice of him, pointing in his direction.

Searching the mob, his eyes quickly singled out the pretty redhead standing a little off to the side. She wasn't partaking in the conversations that were taking place around her. Her face, in contrast to the others, was sober and when their eyes met for a brief moment, he could see the unspoken fear in her eyes.

He swallowed and turned his gaze away, letting it come to rest on the man that was standing maybe forty yards from him in the middle of Front Street. His hands were hanging loosely by his sides. His face was tight, without expression of any kind.

Matt stepped down from the porch and walked out into the street.

"Well?" Ben called out to him, his voice slightly raised, and the murmuring crowd outside the Long Branch suddenly fell silent. "You made up your mind?"

A cold lacing of sweat was glistening on the rancher's brow.

"I have," Matt answered him evenly though his heart was thumping loudly in his chest. His eyes were fastened tensely on the rancher.

"And?"

"I can't do what you're askin' me, Ben," the Marshal replied firmly, praying that the rancher would hear him out as he went on, "I'm tellin' you again, I had nothin' to do with this."

Immediately, Ben's face darkened and his eyes narrowed.

Matt could see the fingers of his friend's right hand open and close nervously as they hovered above his gun.

"Ben, listen to me," he tried again, his voice more urgent now as his left hand pointed at the rancher, "don't do it." He could feel his own fingers twitching, the muscles in his right arm instinctively tense.

"You made your decision," Ben Rawlson snapped coldly, his voice curt, "now be prepared to pay up!"

Matt felt a shudder run down his back--the rancher wasn't going to listen. Dammit, if he was just better with words--he wanted to explain what Doc had said but his mind had suddenly gone blank.

"You're makin' a big mistake, Ben," he warned, desperately trying to get control of his scattered thoughts.

"It's you who's makin' the mistake, Matt."

The Marshal didn't reply; there was a finality in Ben's words which told him that he was through talking. His eyes fixed on the hand of Ben Rawlson. He could try and shot the gun from Ben's hand--

Matt tensed and his hand flew for his colt, the instant the rancher's hand went for his gun, but then, something completely unexpected happened.

A sudden movement to his left distracted him for a split-second and the colt froze in his hand.

"PA! DON'T! I lied, I--"

The agonized scream that filled the street was drowned out by the roar of Rawlson's colt and was followed moments later by the sharp gasps of the crowd.

Then, for a second, there was a shocked silence.

All eyes were now fastened on the crumpled figure of Beth Rawlson, lying sprawled out, face-down in the street between the two men.

In an instant, Matt had his gun holstered up and rushed to her side. As he crouched next to her, he could see that Ben's bullet had struck her in the shoulder. She was unconscious but breathing.

Suddenly, Front Street was coming to life again as people were rushing towards him--all except Ben Rawlson who was still standing frozen. The hand, which was still holding the gun, hung loosely by his side as he stared down in disbelief at his daughter.

Matt looked up at the people surrounding them.

"Someone get Doc!" he yelled desperately.

He could have saved himself the trouble--the second, he had heard the shot, the physician had grabbed his medical kit and rushed from the jail, Chester following closely at his heel.

The doctor examined the young woman quickly.

"We have to get her up to my office, Matt," he said, looking at his friend.

The Marshal nodded.

"Some of you men give Doc a hand here," he addressed some of the bystanders before turning his attention to Ben Rawlson.

The rancher still made no attempts to move; he was standing motionless, mutely staring.

"I'll take this, Ben" said Matt quietly as he pried the gun from the rancher's grasp and shoved it into his belt.

Rawlson still didn't say anything--he didn't even seem to acknowledge as the Marshal placed a hand on his shoulder and began to usher him along to Doc's office.

They briefly stopped when they reached the Long Branch.

"Kitty," said Matt, pulling her aside, "there's a baby over at the Dodge House that might need you."

She nodded.

"Sure. Don't worry about it, Matt."

An assuring smile flitted across her face as she allowed her gaze to linger on him for a moment, unspeakably thankful that he wasn't hurt, then she gave his arm a quick pat and headed for the hotel.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_x_

"Well, you ready, Beth?" said Ben Rawlson smiling as he looked down at the young woman who was sitting on the edge of Doc's bed, her injured shoulder in a sling.

A week had passed since she had been accidentally shot by her father when she had tried to stop him from facing off against the Marshal. Thanks to the physician's expertly care, the wound was healing nicely and she was now finally ready to return home.

Ben turned to the lawman, standing alongside Kitty who was cradling the Rawlson baby in her arms,

"Matt," he said, "I know, I said it before but--" he suddenly broke off as the words seemed to be stuck in his throat.

He swallowed, taking a deep breath. The thought that he had tried to shoot his friend because of a lie his daughter had told, was still filling him with shame and embarrassment.

But Matt understood.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Ben," he said, giving his friend a good-natured clap on the shoulder. He didn't have any hard feelings because of what had happened--in a way, he could see why Ben had acted the way he did. Still, he couldn't help thinking that if the rancher would've given him a chance to explain his side, the whole thing probably could have been prevented.

Ben pressed his lips together and nodded.

"Thanks, Matt," he said quietly as he held out his hand.

Matt accepted it silently, shaking it firmly. He knew that there were no words that could adequately express how Ben felt and he had no need for them.

Sudden loud clomping coming from the stairs outside, caused everyone to turn towards the door.

"Well, Ben...I got your wagon all ready...it's waitin' for you downstairs," announced Chester as he came limping into the room.

Ben acknowledged him with a nod.

"Thank you, Chester."

Then the rancher shifted his attention to his daughter. "It's time, Beth," he told her softly.

This was Kitty's cue.

"Well," she cooed softly to the baby boy in her arms, "good-bye, little man." She tenderly tickled his rosy cheek one last time, eliciting a happy gurgle from the infant, before she stepped forward and handed him over into the waiting arms of his mother.

Matt was oddly touched by this display of tender affection and almost without realizing it, his face took on a proud expression. He had never told her, but he loved watching her whenever she interacted with children--it always reminded him that she was so much more than just simply Kitty Russell, the confident and independent co-owner of the Long Branch saloon and his woman.

He knew in his heart that one day, when the time would be right for both of them, he'd love nothing more than for her to be the mother of his children.

Suddenly embarrassed by his own thoughts, the lawman self-consciously ran a hand through his hair and lowered his gaze. His hands toying with the brim of his Stetson they were holding, he quickly glanced around, hoping that nobody had noticed.

But Doc had.

A knowing smile began to spread across the physician's face, and he quickly swiped a hand across his bristly salt and pepper mustache as he stole a sideways glance at his friend.

"Marshal," Beth Rawlson's voice jostled him from his thoughts and he quickly looked up. " I'm terribly sorry to have caused you so much trouble." She lifted her eyes to him, the embarrassment for her actions reflected on her face as she apologized once again.

"Well, it's all right," Matt answered, smiling sincerely, "it's all over now."

He didn't harbor any resentment because of what she had done--although he was well aware that her thoughtless actions easily could have cost somebody's life.

He nodded at the baby in her arm. "Take good care of him," he said and then, turning to Ben, added, "he'll grow up to be a fine rancher one day."

At the Marshal's words, Ben's face broke into a broad smile, "Don't you worry, Matt," he replied proudly with a quick glance at his grandson, "I'll make sure of that."

With that, Ben gently took the baby from his daughter as Doc helped her to her feet.

_x_

Soon, the young woman was safely sitting on the high seat of the buckboard, the infant securely tucked in her arms. Chester's hand was holding the reins of the team, waiting for Ben to claim his seat.

"Oh, Doc," the rancher suddenly said as he began to fish in his pocket for something, "I almost forgot--"

He produced three shiny ten-dollar coins and before the physician could say anything, Ben had already shoved them in his hand.

"Well, so long," he said after he had taken his place beside his daughter. With one swift motion, he shoved the brake forward and snapped the reins down onto the horses' backs.

Ben Rawlson gave his friends a final nod, and then the wagon lurched forward. A short moment later, it was rattling down Front Street, trailing a small cloud of dust behind it.

"Well, I'll be doggoned," muttered Doc, shaking his head in astonishment as he looked down at the shiny gold pieces in his hand, "I'll be doggoned--" He couldn't remember the last time he had thirty dollars all at once in his pocket.

His friend's proclamation caused Matt's face to split into a grin. Gently pulling Kitty closer against his side, he gave her shoulder a tender squeeze. He was certainly happy for the doctor.

And so was Kitty. She shifted her gaze from the physician to the tall man beside her and gave him a wink and a smile. They both knew that Doc didn't get paid too often with cash and they enjoyed watching his delight over the unexpected windfall.

Still touched by Ben's generosity, the physician continued to softly mutter to himself as he shuffled back over onto the sidewalk.

"Ya know, Doc," said Chester as he pointed at the doctor's hand, "that sure's a lotta money you got there." His eyes were twinkling with humor as he added, "don't you let it go to your head now."

But even Chester's words couldn't destroy the good mood the doctor was in.

"Oh, be quiet, Chester," he piped back, waving the young man off.

Matt let go of Kitty and clasped his hands around the buckle of his gunbelt.

"Well, I don't know," he said, giving the doctor a mischievous grin. "Chester's got a point there--"

That did it--Doc's good mood began to sour ever so slightly. He glared up at his friend.

"Oh?" he groused, "since when are you an expert authority on money? You never seem to have any when I ask you to buy me a beer--"

Right away, Matt made a face, but Kitty quickly took hold of his arm.

"Come on, you two," she said, eyes twinkling, "how about I'll buy you all a drink?"

The prospect of free beer was enough to placate the doctor.

"Well, by golly," he declared pleased, "what're we waitin' for--"

He seized Kitty's elbow, ready to usher her along, but then he suddenly realized that she was staring after Ben Rawlson's wagon as it was slowly disappearing from view.

Feeling Doc's eyes on her, she turned and heaved a small sigh.

"You know, I think, I'm gonna miss that little fella."

A look of mild surprise passed across Matt's face. He had found the last week rather..._challenging_. Not accustomed to being roused repeatedly in the middle of the night by the piercing wails of an infant, he had ended up on his cot at the jail three days into the week in hopes of getting some by now badly needed sleep.

Doc regarded her with an expression of controlled amusement.

"You know, Kitty," he said, sniffing and swiping at his mustache again, "there's a simple cure for that--"

Kitty regarded him curiously, arching an eyebrow. "Oh?" she wondered, "and what's that, Doc?"

"Well, why don't you an' Matt just have one of your own?" he suggested, looking as if he couldn't understand why she hadn't thought of it herself, "or two or three for that matter--" He gave her a wink and added, his eyes now positively crinkled with humor, "you two'd make nice babies, ya know...tall, strappin' li'l fellas with red hair--"

Right away, the Marshal went slightly pink around the ears. He shot his friend a brief look of annoyance, loudly clearing his throat before lowering his gaze to the tips of his boots. But despite his efforts, his embarrassment over the doctor's comment was all too obvious.

Kitty wasn't sure what was funnier; the doctor's remark or the expression on Matt's face, and she couldn't help but laugh. She knew that Doc hadn't really been serious, but obviously, the Marshal had failed to notice.

A distinctly mischievous twinkle suddenly entered her eye. Looking Matt dead in the eye, she smiled meaningfully.

"Who says, we haven't already thought about that?" she teased suggestively.

Matt blinked, startled and swallowed once, but before he could say anything, Kitty had already turned back towards the physician. With a wink and a smile, she tucked her hand under Doc's elbow, and the two set off down the plank sidewalk towards the saloon.

Matt made a face and pushed his Stetson back, scratching his forehead with one hand while he placed the other one on his hip. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before expelling it loudly as he stared after Doc and Kitty. He wasn't quite sure whether he had understood _exactly_ what she'd just said but it had almost sounded as if--

"Well, come on, Chester," he finally said reluctantly when he noticed that his assistant was looking at him rather puzzled, "let's go an' see about that beer."

With that, he gave him a friendly nudge and proceeded to follow after Doc and Kitty.

"Yes, Mister Dillon," agreed Chester readily and added hopefully, as he fell into stride alongside the Marshal, "maybe Doc'll buy the second round--"

"Yeah," replied Matt grinning, in a tone that suggested it'd be more likely to snow in August. His eyes fastened on the back of the pretty redhead walking ahead of him.

_No...surely, she couldn't have been serious-- _

Well, then again--maybe he _should_ have a little talk with her as soon as possible...just to make sure.

_x_**  
**

**  
THE END**


End file.
